


Just Can't Seem to Find Solid Ground

by MarcellaBianca



Series: Since You've Been Around [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Anal Sex, Both of them have large cocks, Bottom Chris, Boys Kissing, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Large Cock, Love, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soft Boys, Top Sebastian, because this is my fanfic and I do what I want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaBianca/pseuds/MarcellaBianca
Summary: Nothing but porn, with some ridiculous feels at the end.





	Just Can't Seem to Find Solid Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is all Brenda and Megan's faults. Just saying.
> 
> This is mainly for Megan's birthday! Happy birthday my dear!

It’s not like Chris hasn’t thought about what it would be like to lose control.

When he’s been with men, they’ve all been vulnerable to the stereotype that comes with Chris and his frame: Big, muscular, pale skin for miles. It begs to wrap big hands around birdbone wrists and coax – no – demand orgasms out of a partner. He doesn’t hate the designation, and his partners have all been more than willing to beautifully crumble under Chris’s careful ministrations.

Chris is a big guy. He's aware of that. He's worked hard to have this body, all hands and shoulders and chest, with a waist that has made exes of both genders jealous. It’s like all of the muscles moved into his upper body and neglected to fill out his ass. “Professor Little-Ass,” Mackie calls it. It’s okay – Chris has nicknamed Mackie “Adjunct Big-Butt.”

So it makes his entire body dissolve into golden, sparkling confusion when Sebastian first pins his arms above his head so they hit the wall next to Chris’s bedroom and leans in, brushing teeth across Chris’s collarbone. The world goes fuzzy around the edges, with Sebastian popping out in absurd clarity. He’s so close to Chris he’s in IMAX, with everything else fading into sepia and subtitles, and Chris feels deliciously, utterly  _ safe.  _ Like Sebastian could do anything he wanted to Chris, and Chris would take it. Would want it. 

He wants to hold on. He wants to collapse. He  _ wants. _

(God, it's never been like this.)

 

They’ve been inching towards this moment for weeks, ever since that first kiss in Chris’s office. Chris had pulled off of Sebastian’s mouth, finally, surprised to find himself up against the door. He doesn't know when that happened, but he won't complain. “I wanna do this right,” he said, tongue thick with the lines he wants to use and can't because Sebastian, kiss-bitten and hazy, had nodded and nuzzled Chris’s chest, and it effectively slashed the tires that carry Chris’s train of thought. 

He’d watched Sebastian slip out the door a few minutes later. Chris had sat down at his desk with a boneless thud and squeezed the front of his pants to will his cock into submission. 

_ Submission  _ was definitely the wrong word to think about. Now unbidden thoughts about losing control, about getting pushed to the edge, about finally not having to be the one in charge - it just made Chris hot all over. 

Ever since that day it’s been several blissful, quiet dates, interspersed with shy looks in hallways and a few stolen moments behind closed office doors. Scarlett watches them with eyes that only be described as spider-like, and Mackie, well. Mackie just shoots them a  _ naughty boys  _ look every time Chris and Sebastian walk into faculty meetings together trying to seem like they aren’t  _ together. _

Aside from deep, over-too-soon kisses at doors and in cars, and one pretty spectacular afternoon of cuddling that led to dry-humping while Netflix and Disney movies droned on merrily in the background, Chris has been taking it slow. Trying to. Sebastian draws him in, energy bouncing off him like a lightning bolt.

 

Tonight they’ve come back to Sebastian's apartment from a faculty party, a pre-exams get-together. They both got lightly buzzed on Skarsgard’s homemade mead. Their fingers had brushed against each other on more than one occasion as they passed each other in the kitchen and the living room of Director Jackson’s home. When they got in the car, there had been several wide seconds of silence before Sebastian had whispered, “I've been hard for two hours.”

Chris was very glad he hadn't been driving, or the car would have swerved into a tree.    
  


Desire pools low in his belly, molten gold running down a hot sidewalk, as his hips twitch forward, trying to press against Sebastian’s, but Sebastian angles away so Chris reaches nothing but air, desperate to find friction to rub into. Sebastian smiles against Chris’s neck. “You’re so twitchy,” he breathes, hot air on Chris’s skin. Chris is going to come, explode, or die. One of the three.

“And you’re a monster,” he manages, hands still pinned, bending his head to catch Sebastian’s mouth. This time Sebastian gives him what he wants, kissing him deeply, pausing at the end to lightly suck on Chris’s tongue. “I’m not a monster,” he says, in a voice dangerously low, before moving his head to the side. Chris’s ear gets hot and wet as Sebastian’s tongue traces the fragile outer shell, and if they don’t fuck soon, he’s going to be in outer

fucking 

space.

“Mean,” he scrapes out, knowing he could rip his hands free of Sebastian’s hold at any time but he doesn't want to, he wants to be held down, wants to be claimed, wants so many things he's never put a name to before. 

“Want you,” he murmurs as Sebastian comes back up to fit their mouths together. “Want you bad.”

He hears a huffed out laugh, between a breath and a moan, and then Sebastian is letting go of his wrists, and the fingers of Sebastian’s right hand are slipping across the front of Chris’s slacks as if they're asking a question, and Chris, well. 

Chris would answer if he were on Planet Earth.

 

* * *

Sebastian is going to  _ devour  _ Chris. 

Sure, Chris Evans has the body of a literal Adonis, and yes, his capable hands and easy but disciplined demeanor suggest someone who is used to taking charge in most scenarios. At work, there's no mistaking who has the upper hand - Sebastian is a new professor, and Chris has been at the college for years, getting tenure track just out of his doctorate program (which kind of makes Sebastian want to kiss him and smack him, because how,  _ how _ does  _ anyone  _ do that these days?), so Sebastian willingly and enthusiastically acquiesces to Chris’s superiority in anything involving the classrooms or the ins and outs of digital pedagogy. Chris has sat in on several of Sebastian’s committee meetings and even offered sharp criticism of his upcoming book project, something Sebastian vastly appreciated because the man has written two to Sebastian’s zero (he's working on it, okay? Writing a book is hard). 

But.

Sebastian might have walked into a glass door the first day, and he's still trying to figure out which buildings are which on campus, but he's no fool. He knows what to do when the lights dim and sweat pools. This is the one thing he can go to his grave knowing: at this, he’s  _ excellent _ .

He gets Chris’s shirt untucked from his pants after the first delicious graze across the front of the already tented fabric, and sucks in a breath as his fingers walk over the small golden strip of exposed flesh. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says, unable to contain what’s pounding in his chest. He massages the space right under Chris’s navel, where the belly flattens out into lower abdominal muscle. It jumps out to meet his hands as Chris jerks forward to reach more of his heat. “Just want to put my mouth all over you.”

That beautiful fair Irish skin flushes scarlet. Chris makes a noise like he's been caught in a fight with garrote wire. Sebastian takes that as a compliment. His fingers splay out into a V and slide down past the edge of Chris’s pants, just bridging the waistband of his boxers. All of this is making his own cock harder than iron, so Sebastian can only imagine what it's doing to Chris. He’s answered by a low moan from the back of Chris’s throat as Sebastian slides his hand down to lightly blanket the fabric over Chris’s erection. “Hello,” he murmurs, amusement coloring his tones to hide the slow building desperation in him. He wants Chris so badly,  _ has  _ wanted Chris since the second he clapped eyes on him, and it  _ hurts,  _ it  _ aches.  _

He latches his mouth to Chris’s neck before more words can be said, hand cupping him through the fabric of his underwear. He's pleased, but not surprised, to find Chris is big and thick. At some point Sebastian’s going to want that cock in his ass. If Chris asks nicely, of course. 

“This for me?” He mumbles wetly against the quickly purpling flesh under his mouth. Chris groans, more out of amusement than arousal. “What a line, jeez.”

“Am I wrong?” Sebastian huffs, terribly fond. He wants Chris naked, but if he wants to strip his clothes off and reveal chris in all his beefy glory, he's gonna have to take his hand off Chris’s wrist.  _ Damn.   _

His hand unlaces from around Chris’s, prompting a deep sigh. “Bedroom,” he intones, pressing a kiss to Chris’s lips that's full of intent despite being quick. Chris grabs his hand now, and all but drags him down the hall.

 

* * *

 

Chris’s fly is hanging open, his neck probably looks like he got mauled by a bear, and all he can think about is the exact movements that are going to get Sebastian's cock inside of him. The area of Chris's brain that cares about decorum and being an adult with the ability to make rational decisions is fuzzing out like bad cable television with a shitty antenna and Sebastian’s on him like a jungle cat the instant they fall on the bed, all lips and teeth and feral tongue and wandering hands and when did Chris lose his shirt?

“Holy shit,” Sebastian says, hushed. He runs a hand over Chris’s chest; Chris arches like he's being burned, and gasps when Sebastian finds his left nipple and lightly tweaks it. “You have any idea how gorgeous you are?” He moves his free hand to quickly undo the buttons of his own shirt to lift it off, exposing veritable miles of 

“Seb-” Chris can't deal with this. He needs to reciprocate. “You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen.”

That manages to stop Sebastian, get him looking slightly shy, for all his big talk and wandering hands. “I...thanks.”

“More people should tell you that,” Chris asserts, hands cupping sebastian's face to get that tawny golden glow in his palms, just to have some of that light in his fingertips. “You're stunning.”

Sebastian is quiet for a moment, then slides to chris’s side, hand running up and down Chris’s chest. “There's a fairy tale by Charles Perrault - a girl gets blessed by a fairy and diamonds and pearls and flowers fall from her mouth when she speaks.”

Chris may have read that one. “Doesn't another girl get snakes and frogs?”

“Yeah but that's not what's happening here. I don't think.” For the first time tonight, Sebastian looks unsure. 

“Fuck no.” Chris kisses Sebastian’s neck, chin, temple, the tip of his nose, whatever he can reach. “I mean that shit.”

Sebastian playfully bats him away. “My god, you're like a puppy!”

That laughter in his voice descends to a surprised growl as chris uses Sebastian’s distraction to get his hand down his pants. “You're more like a cat, I think,” he breathes, watching sebastian’s face melt into indescribable kaleidoscopes. “A leopard, or something.”

“I do like cats,” Sebastian grunts, wrapping his top leg across Chris’s hip. Chris sucks a bruise into his collarbone so they match. “I like  _ you _ ,” he muses, forgoing the earlier teasing touch and slipping his hand straight down inside Sebastian’s underwear so he can get to the heat beneath. “Fuck-” the fabric is wet. “Somebody wants to fuck me tonight.”

“Told you-” Sebastian grinds into Chris’s palm, smearing it with precome. “Been wet for hours, probably. You shouldn't look at me the way you do.”

“Damn.” Chris has to squeeze the head of his own cock to keep from imploding, but to be honest the right breath of air would make him come right now. “Probably don't even need lube,” he pants. “Could just get myself ready from this, have you fuck me with your own precome.”

At that, Sebastian keens. “Jesus Christ.” And that strange, wonderful accent wrapping around a blasphemy shouldn't be so fucking arousing. Chris gets him by the shoulders and yanks him down, crushing their lips together - he angles it so they don't break any teeth, but it's close. “Please fuck me,” he rasps, out of his fucking mind.

Sebastian gasps against his mouth, then pushes him down into the sheets so he can fumble through the side table for the necessary supplies. Chris manages to get his pants and boxers all the way off and then is treated to the  _ amazing  _ show of Sebastian rolling on a condom and slicking himself with lube. It skyrockets its way up the “Things Chris Evans Can Die Happy Having Seen” list. 

He grabs the slick and preps quickly; they have time for drawn-out fingering and oral later. Chris just wants to be full of him, stuffed with Sebastian, drowning in the feeling, set out to sea. Also, Sebastian’s looking at him like he’s Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner combined, so that speeds up the process considerably. After a pause, he reaches out, swiping some of Sebastian's precome so he can do what he promised. 

"Fucking Christ, are you even real?" Sebastian asks with a slight whine to his question. Chris can't answer. He doesn't rightly know himself.

His fingers aren’t a match for Sebastian’s cock, but Chris chases the burn like an ambulance. So when Sebastian slowly pushes into him, Chris throws his head back against the pillows and lets out a harsh sound, punched from the square center of his solar plexus. When Sebastian bottoms out, the sound transmutes into a breathy groan. It burns, but deliciously so, and Sebastian is clearly used to this, because he took his damn time getting in to make sure Chris would only hurt in the ways that burn him bright, scour him clean.

Chris isn’t very vocal during sex, but he does breathe rather loudly, and when Sebastian finally moves, Chris teeters on the edge of hyperventilation for at least five minutes. Colors and light and glitter spark off and crash together behind his eyes. He’s going to come embarrassingly fast and he almost doesn’t care?

 

* * *

Fairy tales are so important to Sebastian, but this.

This is real. This is raw. This is a jump off the pages of every storybook he’s ever read, every happy ending he’s longed for. This is sweat and sound and slick and Chris fucking Evans breathing hard and practically spellbound underneath him and Sebastian, the witch in the woods, finally luring the prey into his house for the feast.

Sebastian can barely control his thrusts. They’re not coming from him. They’re coming from every piece of magic he’s ever read, manifesting into a moment.

He comes suddenly, spurred by Chris’s own climax, and Chris bucks his hips up to catch Sebastian, so his cock drives deeper inside of him. It’s over. Sebastian stands momentarily suspend between awake and unconscious. Diamonds and pearls and precious metals. 

When he comes to, he’s on top of Chris, Chris pushing anxious hands through Sebastian’s hair. “You okay?” he asks, sounding hoarse. The stickiness between them assures Sebastian that they both got off. Thank goodness. 

“Yeah. Just...” He lifts his head, grazing his lips across Chris’s jaw, overwhelmed by what he’s feeling. Chris’s arms go around him, holding him, and it’s everything. More than any tale Perrault or Grimm or Basile could cook up, better than any Anne Sexton poem or Angela Carter reinterpretation. This is real, this is something he can reach out and touch. Because he can. 

And although Sebastian’s been deconstructing and critiquing Disney films since grad school, he can’t help the few bars that float through his head at this particular vulnerable moment.

__ My heart has wings  
__ And I can fly  
__ I’ll touch every star in the sky  
_ So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of  
_ __ So this is love…

And if the glow on Chris’s face is anything like the light that surrounds Sebastian’s own heart, they’re singing the same tune.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt to add some more Top!Seb to the Evanstan fandom here on Ao3. I love me some sub!Seb, a lot. But I think there's a LOT of magic to Sebastian topping, and consequently, to Chris bottoming. It doesn't happen enough in this fandom, and I wanted to get some different characterizations on here.
> 
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS MAKE ME VERY HAPPY OK.
> 
> [Tumblr!](http://marciellaniello.tumblr.com)


End file.
